


I Declare War On My Body.

by Zyzzyva



Series: And the universe said, "You have played the game well." [DSMP Fics] [16]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Gen, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, why the fuck is bad's tag his actual name :/
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29985012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyzzyva/pseuds/Zyzzyva
Summary: And the Eggpire heals.
Relationships: Antfrost & Cara | CaptainPuffy, Antfrost & Cara | CaptainPuffy & Luke | Punz & Darryl Noveschosch & Ponk & Sam | Awesamdude, Antfrost & Darryl Noveschosch, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Darryl Noveschosch, Darryl Noveschosch & Sam | Awesamdude, Luke | Punz & Darryl Noveschosch, Luke | Punz & Ponk | DropsByPonk, Ponk | DropsByPonk & Sam | Awesamdude
Series: And the universe said, "You have played the game well." [DSMP Fics] [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207772
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	I Declare War On My Body.

**Author's Note:**

> not sure how many chapters this one will be!
> 
> title & from self esteem & chapter title from brave as a noun, both by ajj :)
> 
> tws for this chapter: self-hatred, in-scene & referenced violence, nongraphic self-harm, semi-referenced flashback.

Punz is the first to come back after the egg is destroyed.

It makes sense; after all, he’s the least connected, the least influenced. He only ever existed on the outskirts of the faction, still the most in control of himself of everyone.

It only takes a few days for him to recover, the red receding bit after bit from his eyes. He spends most of those days sleeping, only waking every few hours to stare at the wall. He tells Sam his head feels buzzy, like his thoughts are all out of order, and all Sam can do is rub his shoulder and encourage him to go back to sleep.

It’s on the fourth or fifth day he starts to regain any sort of energy, tells Puffy a little about what it was like to be under the egg’s influence. He’s allergic to any sort of vulnerability, but no one can deny the way his hands shake, and Puffy holds them with her own.

The last of the red bleeds through his tears.

* * *

It takes around two weeks for Ant to make any sort of semblance of consciousness. He blinks his cat pupils open on the final day, stares Sam in the face, and starts to cry. His eyes are still purple-tinted, but Sam can’t care less as he envelopes his friend in a hug. Ant is mumbling something that sounds like ‘I’m sorry' over and over and over again, and Sam shushes him, runs a hand along the fur on his head in a calming gesture from when they were kids.

They stay there for a long time. Whenever sam tries to pull away, Ant hooks his claws in Sam’s armor and doesn’t let him leave.

Sam doesn’t say anything about it, just obliges.

* * *

It’s a hard and long process, apologizing. Punz and Ponk speak in quiet, mumbling voices, and no one dares interrupt them. Ant begins with Puffy, sitting next to her on the beds they set up, and he recounts the story to her.

“I wish I could tell you more,” he says. “but i don’t remember all that much.”

It’s a complete lie, and he has a feeling she knows, but thankfully she doesn’t pry. She just stands, takes his hand, and pulls him to his feet.

His legs are still a bit shaky, but she supports him as she leads them outside.

The vines are gone, and he can’t help but let out a small cry of relief. She grins at him as she leads him to Hannah’s house.

The colors are still gone from her house, but as they settle outside he admires the roses that have started to push through the grass once again.

It’s such a wonder to be in control of himself once again. He opens and closes his hands a few times, still relishing in the feeling.

(He’s not sure of the timeline, of how long he wasn’t himself, but he can’t bring himself to ask.)

He looks at Puffy, who’s watching him with a complicated expression. He reaches out a paw, and she takes it.

“I missed you,” she murmurs.

He’s been doing a lot of crying in the few short days he’s been awake, but he never seems to run out of tears.

“I missed you too.”

“We were so worried about what would happen to you after it was destroyed. It had such a strong hold on you…”

“I know, I know, but I’m here now, right? Everyone’s gonna be ok.”

(It’s a lie. He’s still coasting on adrenaline, on pure unfiltered relief right now, but he knows it can’t last long. He knows they’ll realize they don’t forgive him, and he knows they’ll realize that it was his fault. Because it was. He can’t let himself relax for long.)

She doesn’t make eye contact, and he can see her face pinch a bit at that. He feels a bit of a pit growing in his stomach. He almost doesn’t want to ask.

“What is it?”

She purses her lips. “We’re not sure, on Bad.”

His stomach drops.

* * *

He demands to see Bad immediately. It’s a long process, on such tired legs, to get down to the area below. They let him and punz recover on the surface, but Puffy said they wanted Bad as far from any of the egg’s possible influence as the final vines were being destroyed.

He’s sequestered in a room deep below, and as Puffy leads ant down the hallway his anxiety grows.

As much as he wants to see his friend, part of him doesn’t.

A lot of him doesn’t. He stills. He can’t bring his legs to move any more. Puffy walks a few more strides before she notices he isn’t behind her, and she doubles back.

She notices his expression immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He struggles to get the words out. he’s been struggling with that a lot, lately. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he can get it out. It’s still surprising to be able to do so.

“I don’t know if I want to see him.” It’s a painful admission, and part of him fears Puffy will immediately call him an asshole. Hell, he doesn’t fucking want to see his best friend, one of the people he cares most about, his friend who’s comatose. That’s a bit of a dick move.

But she doesn’t. She rests a hand on his shoulder, and he pulls her into a hug as he hiccups. She rubs his back. They sink to the ground, and Puffy holds him close.

“Why don’t you want to see him?” There’s no judgment in her voice, not like he feared, and something about it unlocks his words.

“I just… part of it… I don’t want to see the effects, because that’ll make it so much more real.” He bites his lip. “And... we... we did such shitty things together- and I don’t want to remember them- I don’t want to remember how we treated each other- and-”

He can’t breathe. She rubs on his back, murmuring reassurances, and little by little the anxiety in his chest dissipates enough for him to think. He pulls back, a bit, gets a clear look at her face. She gives him a small smile, and he returns it.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. we all get it.” She shifts closer, so they’re sitting side by side on the hallway floor. “It’s a hard thing. You deserve to feel comfortable, first of all. You deserve to put yourself and your recovery first.”

He tugs his knees to his chin. He doesn’t deserve to be first, not after what he did to everyone. Puffy’s just being nice. They- his victims- they deserve to be first.

(But does Bad count as a victim? He can remember, faintly, being horrible to Bad. They fought all the time, he knows that, and not just with words.

The egg pit them against each other, had them fight for everything. He remembers more than he cares to.)

Old wounds sting, even after they’ve long since healed. He puts a hand on a faint scar on his arm.

Bad doesn’t count as a victim. He shivers.

“Ant?” Puffy asks gently.

“I don’t want to see him,” he murmurs, as horrible as it feels. Puffy nods, pulls him into a brief hug, and tells him to go back upstairs, that she’ll be right behind.

He crawls into bed, and he sleeps for a long, long time.

* * *

“How’s he doing?” Puffy asks as she enters the room. Sam looks up from the bedside, setting his book on his lap.

“No change,” he says. Puffy purses her lips, takes a look.

Bad’s been sleeping fitfully ever since the egg was destroyed. He was the first to go down, collapsing the moment the final vine was severed. Sam speculates the egg was siphoning the most energy from him, considering he was the leader of their cause.

He looks terrible. He’s hardly been able to sleep consistently for over half an hour, still gasping and wrenching in what seems to be pain, and they can’t figure out how to fix it.

He still has vines curled around his arm and face. They can’t find where it’s coming from, and every time they trim it back it returns within hours.

A few days ago they came in to find it seemingly ripped out. He was bleeding, badly, but when they returned with medical supplies it had already grown back.

(They decided to keep a constant watch, after that.)

She touches a hand to his forehead. None of them are exactly sure what temperature demons are supposed to be, but all the same he seems far too cold. She strokes his cheek, pulls away and adjusts the blankets. It’s a bit tough, with his height, but they make do.

He’s so pale. His skin looks almost gray where it used to be vibrant, and the red accents still haven’t turned from white.

(He looks _dead_. Every time she comes to see him she can’t help but reach for his pulse. Can’t help but check.)

She leans back, sighs. “Ant didn’t want to see him.”

Sam frowns. “Punz and Ponk didn’t, either.”

“He didn’t say much on it,” she continues, sitting beside him. “But he seemed almost… scared, i’d say. He said they didn’t treat each other too well.”

“It’s not surprising, is it? It must have been torture. It’s not surprising to learn it had them be awful to each other. If they were too close they’d find a way to fight back, and it couldn’t have that.”

She nods, putting her head in her hands. Sam rubs her shoulder. She leans into his side, lets herself break just a little.

(Only a little.)

“I just wish he’d wake up.”

"I know,” he says quietly. "I miss him. We’ve just got to hope it’s soon.”

* * *

Punz starts out the day with the express need to forget what the fuck happened.

He can’t bear the way they look at him. Puffy and Sam’s pity makes him sick, and Ant’s trying desperately to avoid him at all costs, and Ponk still has a hard time looking him in the eye.

It hurts. He wants things to go back to the way they were, but he doesn’t because that was Dream. He’s not sure what he wants.

He deserves a fucking break.

He’s not supposed to leave, yet, not without someone to accompany him, but he doesn’t care. The constant care is suffocating, and he just wants to pretend he’s back to normal for five fucking seconds.

So he grabs a bag, a couple loaves of bread, and

His head still hasn’t cleared, and his body is still utterly shot from being stretched to its limits for _months_ , so he can’t run too far, but he doesn’t care.

(The pain is good, means he’s atoning, and when his lungs burn this hard he can’t even focus on memories.)

He coughs, stumbles, and finds himself on the ground. He rolls over, lays flat on his back, and stares at the sky. He wants to scream.

Can he not have _five seconds_?

His brain feels fuzzy again. It’s been hard, lately, to think much of anything beyond a need to escape a mysterious, nonexistent enemy that’s probably just inside his own mind, but he can’t relax, can’t let himself go, can’t concentrate on anything because of sheer fear.

(Puffy says it’s hypervigilance, a trauma response, but that doesn’t make sense, because wasn’t _he_ doing the traumatizing?)

None of it makes any fucking sense. He just wants to curl up on the hill he’s found himself on, stay there forever. It’s so hard. He just wants to stay here forever.

He curls onto his side, closes his eyes. Everything’s fuzzy.

“Punz?”

He jolts, almost screams, but it’s Ponk. He can relax around Ponk. Ponk’s safe. He settles back onto the ground. “You awake, buddy?”

He waves a hand, and Ponk grabs it. He feels the other sit beside him.

“You’re not supposed to run, it’s not safe.”

Punz grunts, rolls back onto his back. He has to put extra care into making words, now. It’s so much more tiring. He considers just not responding. He does. “Yeah.”

Ponk sighs. “Ok. Can you stand?”

It’s a long process to get back to the base.

* * *

Bad wakes up slowly.

The first time, Sam barely notices it. He rolls over, raises a hand to rub on his face, which isn’t too uncommon. The keen of pain that follows is still business as usual, much as it makes Sam’s heart ache.

Then, all of a sudden, he gasps. His hands fly up to pull at the vine on his face. His eyes are still closed, but he’s crying, sobbing, even, and he grasps with what seems to be his full strength. Sam stands, trying to figure out what to do, when the vines fly off with a sickening noise that makes Sam want to be sick.

They fall to the ground, and he raises a netherite boot to crush them. It makes a horrible squelch, and Sam knows he’ll have to burn the boots later to get the stain off, but it doesn’t matter.

What matters is the blinking, too-dim, barely open eyes in front of him.

Sam pulls him into a tight hug. Bad makes a sort of growl in the back of his throat that makes Sam’s hair stand up on end.

Bad doesn’t usually speak in his native tongue, anymore, and Sam has no idea what he says, but he doesn’t care.

His friend is _alive._

* * *

Everything hurts so much. Every single nerve in his body feels like it’s on fire, feels like he’s burning up from the inside.

Someone- Sam, it’s Sam, it’s Sam it’s Samit’sSam- is petting his hair, running his fingers through the knots and working them out gently. He’s saying something, but the rushing in Bad’s ears is too much to be able to understand anything at all.

He’s so tired. He wants to fall asleep, wants to sleep forever, but the pain is so much that he can’t do more than collapse against Sam, let the other man carry his weight. He wants to bring his arms up to return the hug (it’s the least he can do) but he can’t.

He lets out a whine. Everything is too much. The world is too bright, his own breathing is too ragged to his ears, even Sam’s touch hurts. Sam just continues murmuring words Bad doesn’t understand and running his fingers through his hair.

The door opens, or at least he thinks it does. He’s not sure. His weight is passed from sam to another and he cries out. He doesn’t want sam to leave him, but this new person talks in a voice that calms him. He feels a warm washcloth on his face and it’s the only thing that doesn’t burn. The person takes his hands and warms them between their own, and the pain eases just a little.

He relaxes, slowly.

There’s still whispering in his ears and he tries so hard to tune it out.

(It hurts.)

He curls in on himself when it grows too loud.

It gets louder. He doesn’t stay awake for long.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please check out my other fics!
> 
> here's my [ ko-fi ](https://yaoyoyoyo.tumblr.com/post/623129308189327360/i-just-finished-setting-up-a-ko-fi-please-check)!  
> here's my [ information on writing commissions ](https://yaoyoyoyo.tumblr.com/post/631112745941712896/hello-ive-finally-decided-to-officially-open)!  
> here's my [ tumblr ](https://anyaskers.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> let me know if any of the links break, and i'll do my best to fix them!  
> please leave some comments, and i'm always, always open to constructive criticism :).


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